


before the construct holiday

by EKmisao



Series: stories from the end [6]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Canon, extended ending spoiler, special episode spoiler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 17:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EKmisao/pseuds/EKmisao
Summary: (SPOILER WARNING for ending/extended ending) Maybe trying to celebrate mother's day was a mistake.





	before the construct holiday

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER WARNING for the ending and extended ending (special episodes). 
> 
> An explanation. Among the many loving tweets (words or fanart) about Mother's Day today, one passed from @ninemoons42 about reminding those from traumatic or abusive households that they're not lesser people, that they were right to leave such. And I remembered them, these two kids. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.

By now he had given me a special spoken passcode I could use for the front gate then the front door. Of course both of them knew whenever I arrived, but it had become somewhat normal for them, so they often ignored when I came in through the front gate and front door and just said hello when I appeared at the open door. The only other person who had such direct and straightforward access was Mary Vanderwood. Even Yoosung and Jumin had to be acknowledged at the front gate. 

This explains why, on that Saturday, I found myself being stared at by my own boyfriend as I stood at his door. 

"You're not Mary Vanderwood," he said. 

"Thank you?" 

He shook his head awake as he rubbed the back of it. "I...I just mean, I wasn't expecting you to come today." This was also clear, as he was in a tank top that showed his arms and chest, something I did not see very often. "The place is a mess." 

That was exactly what I came for. Well, not the mess exactly, but the reason for it. 

This was the Saturday before Mother's day. 

...........................

I had seen his apartment in various states of cleanliness, but he was right. This was one of the worst cases of messiness I had ever seen out of these two. Shirts were all over the floor. Not only were there empty and half-empty bags of honey butter chips on the floor, there were bags of other snacks as well as several empty cup-noodle bowls. There were many empty soft drink cans everywhere. 

This was also true in the kitchen. Whatever plates were used were left piling on the sink, amidst even more empty soft drink cans and water glasses. 

When I offered to switch places for once with Mary, she warned me that I was up for a lot of work. It was work that Mary was used to by now, having known and worked with Seven for many years. But this amount of mess was not even in Mary's warning. 

It was like...they were intentionally doing this. Maybe subconsciously, but they were doing this. Making a mess. And not because of Mary Vanderwood, though this was really going to get her annoyed. Not because of me, either, because they did not know I was coming. It was like they were enjoying the fact that they were answerable to no one, that they could make the mess they wanted without anyone getting angry, not even Mary. They would pick up the mess later, but for now they could make the mess they want. 

I was not having any of it, though. 

I slipped into the toilet (thankfully that was decently clean, though I started the toilet cleaner on the bowl), and I changed into a loose shirt and leggings. 

I headed to the living room and started there, picking up the discarded shirts. 

"What are you doing?" Seven asked, following after me. 

"The cleaning?" I said, gathering the shirts into a pile in my hands. 

"You don't need to do that..." 

"But I want to," I said. 

He took a deep breath and moved out of the way. 

Mary told me where to find the washer/dryer, as well as the soap and fabric softener. Neither twin had overly-delicate shirts or clothes, so I pressed the normal setting and set the washing machine to deal with their shirts. I would come back later to deal with the jackets (Exactly when were those jackets laundered last?), then the jeans. 

As that spun, I got out a trash bag and gathered the snack bag and soft drink cans from off the floor. I circled around Saeran, who was working his way through an RPG, as he sat on the floor in front of the TV. 

"Hyung, what is she doing?" he yelled, as his way of acknowledging me. 

"Well she said she was doing the cleaning today," Seven called back. 

Saeran harrumphed, then ignored me. 

Collecting all the mess on the floor then taking them to the larger neighborhood trash bin took some time, and by then the first batch of washing was done. I transferred the shirts to the dryer, started the jeans in the washer. I realized that if I was ever going to live with him, these were the same things I had to do for them all the time, so I hoped I could eventually at least convince them to toss things into a hamper. 

"Really, you don't have to do this," Seven told me again. 

"But I want to," I said again. 

I found where Mary said she kept the uncooked rice in the kitchen. I scooped out two cups then put that along with water into the rice cooker. While letting the rice cooker do its job, I washed the dishes in the sink. 

If they had no plans to celebrate the day, because there was no one to celebrate with or about, at least I could make them feel like there was someone looking out for them, the way a mom would. I guess, that was how it was in my head. So I was really asking to do the chores for them. But I guess I did not expect the chores to be like this. 

"Hyung! Make her stop!" Saeran called out from the living room. 

Seven answered from the kitchen. "I can't!" 

I looked in the refrigerator, and found way too many soft drink cans. I sighed. 

Still in the loose shirt and leggings, I headed out to the nearest grocery. 

Seven trailed after me, following me into the grocery, helplessly watched me grab at carrots and onions and bell peppers, a container of kimchi, a pack of sliced meat. "Seriously, this is very housewifely of you. What has gotten into you?" 

I could not tell him the way I said it in my head. "I want to make bibimbap. I already have the rice cooking. Is that okay?" 

"I...guess?" he said. "But why?" 

"Um...no big reason." 

Of course he did not believe me. 

.....................

I chopped vegetables and cooked meat. During the process I kept hearing "Hyung! Why is she still here!" and "I do not know!" and "Make her stop bothering us and just go out on a date or something." 

"I...don't want to go out," Seven answered. 

"Ha. You don't want to work, either. You don't want to player-2 with me, either." 

"Look who's talking. You don't want to do anything besides finish that game today." 

"At least I'm finishing something. You don't want to do anything." 

"And you're just getting your mind off things." 

I scooped out rice and topped them with the cooked vegetables and meat. 

I called Seven in, hoping that he would in turn call in Saeran for lunch. But he came in, while Saeran kept playing on in the living room. 

"He'll just get lunch in his own time, I suppose," he said, shrugging. 

He kept watching me while we ate lunch, analyzing my presence and probably my intentions. But I did not know how to tell him what I was doing. How was I going to say that I wanted him to feel why everyone else was celebrating Mother's day tomorrow, because there was someone in their life who lovingly and willingly did these chores and ordinary things, as part of loving them? I wanted him to feel loved, besides in the talking and the gifting and the occasional dating, but also in the ordinary things of life. I had no idea how to say all that to him, and make him understand. 

But the more he looked at me, the more he frowned. 

"Is there something wrong with the bibimbap?" 

He shook his head, but the frown stayed. 

.....................

After lunch, I took out the mop and bucket. I did not do a soapy mopping on the floor, partly because Saeran still kept finishing boss battle after boss battle on the floor. But I covered as much of the floor in the living room, hallway, and kitchen as I could. Saeran kept ignoring me, while Seven kept frowning at me. 

Finishing that, I folded the shirts while the jackets were running in the washing. 

And having done those, I headed back to the kitchen to wash the lunchtime dishes. 

His voice was hard, taut, tightly pulled back. "And do you plan to also wash all the cars?" 

"What? No! For one I don't know how you like--"

"I know you're not planning to replace Vanderwood. You're just feeling sorry for us." 

The voice was solid ice. It made me freeze in place, keeping my back to him. 

"What else are you going to do for us? Take us to the park? Get the bath ready? Tuck us to bed? Bedtime story?" 

"What?" I said. 

"STOP." 

It made me drop the spoon. 

His voice remained taut, icy, and terrifying. "I know what you're trying to do. Stop it right now." 

I knew he was not going to hurt me, but I could not keep my hands from trembling. I did not dare turn to face him, so I shut my eyes and endured the shouting over me. 

"You're here on a Saturday," he growled, "because you have to be elsewhere on the Sunday. You have made arrangements with your own family!" he accused loudly. "You're going to meet them tomorrow, because of a commercialized American construct holiday. You won't be here tomorrow because of that holiday, so you're here today, reminding me, reminding HIM," pointing outside to the living room toward Saeran, "that we do NOT have that." 

"No, that was not--" 

"You are under no obligation to comply with a stupid commercialized American construct holiday! Just because every other family does it, it doesn't mean you have to force it on me!" His voice grew louder, as it filled with more frost, more ice. "Remind me every chance, why don't you, how nice your life is, how good your family is, that you HAVE a family, just how nicely fucking NORMAL your life is before you met me!" 

He paused to breathe, to keep his voice from breaking. "You are under no obligation to be nice to me, just because you're sorry for me! Dammit, you just came into our messed-up life, you don't need to stay in it! Get out of our life, while you can!" 

Everything about me trembled now. I seriously considered walking out, and leaving, and never coming back. And I would have been right to do so, leaving a bad relationship while I could. 

But the shouting stopped. A heavy silence filled the kitchen, and the whole apartment. 

And I felt arms wrap around me, a chest rest over my back, and a head rest on my shoulder. I felt him shake to the core as he held me. 

"I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. I'm very very sorry." He kept saying it over and over again, shaking as he held me tightly, tears falling onto my shoulder. "I'm very very sorry. Please believe me. I'm very sorry." 

I wanted to believe him, I did. A part of me did believe him, even if a large part of me was scared. "I...can leave," I said, just above a whisper. "I can come back another day. I can also leave for good." 

"No. Please don't," he said, holding me tighter. "I am not my mother. I swear I will not be my mother. I will not tie you down to me. You can go find someone else, any time you don't love me anymore. You can go leave for someone else, any time I scare you enough. But I also hope you'll stay." 

He kept holding me in his arms, firmly but gently, as the shaking slowed to gentle tremors. "Please stay," he whispered, as if frightened of saying it louder, scared of a deep hope being said aloud. 

"I'm sorry, as well," I said, getting back what keeps me with him. "I...did not mean to hurt you. I hoped it would make you happy. I should have asked." 

"It's okay. I'm happy you're here. We both are," he said, keeping his head on my shoulder. "But. It's too late for both of us. The past is done. There's no getting it back." 

"So I suppose, next year I'll just call and ask about you two?" I asked. 

He kept his head leaned on me. "I dunno, we'll think about it when we get there, okay?" 

"Okay." 

He turned me around. "I AM happy you're here, okay." He wiped the tear off my cheek. "Maybe in a few years we'll be one of those half-normal families having lunch on a special American construct holiday Sunday." 

"How so?" I asked. 

"Because I'll have to treat you and our children to lunch, yes?" 

I wrapped my arms around him, and gave him another hug. 

A coughing from the kitchen door. 

"If you two are done being sappy, the console is free?" Saeran said. 

We laughed as we gave our thanks, as Saeran rolled his eyes while walking away. 

"Mario Kart?" Seven asked. 

"You think I'll let you win?" I challenged. 

"Let's see you try," he said, laughing, as he took up my hand.


End file.
